


This Time In Color

by minniebot



Series: Cut Cord [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Body Worship, Molly uses it/its, Other, PIV Sex, caduceus is transfemme, cum kink, demon!Mollymauk - Freeform, fae!Caduceus, molly why the FUCK are you so horny, xeno genitals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-03 07:56:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16322240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minniebot/pseuds/minniebot
Summary: If you needed a favor done for a physical form, there was really only one place you could go to get it. That said, Molly may have gotten itself in a little deep.If there’s one thing Mollymauk Tealeaf isn't, though, it's a quitter.





	This Time In Color

**Author's Note:**

> chapter dedicated to nik on the widomauk server for makin' my day this morning!!! WE IN IT NOW, LADS

After spending an exceedingly long period of time in the physical plane, Molly felt... naked.

 

Like, okay, in retrospect, obviously, because of the whole “sex demon” thing, but there were some things that it was just more trouble than it was worth to manifest,  _ especially _ for as long and as often as it spent in its material body, living with Caleb and usually Nott.

 

So. If you needed a favor done for a physical form, there was really only one place you could go to get it.

 

#

 

Molly is vaguely aware that most people tended to find the Morning Court a little unsettling. If what it had heard was to be believed, others that wandered into this particular corner of the Feywild tended to look back on the pastel-tinted trees and gold-spun rivers only to find that they had passed rotting stumps and bogs choked with moss. The horrifying aspects of the Morning Court apparently lurked in the corners of eyes and in reflection and hindsight - maybe more obvious than the regal dynamics of the Sidhe, but just as dangerous and just as easy to fall into.

 

Lucky, then, that it wasn't in the habit of retreating or thinking about what could have been. For all of Molly's faults - its brash nature, its tendency to prod, its screaming desire to be noticed at all times - the simple trick of this Court relied too much on hesitation that it just didn't contain. It wasn't here often even with that, though. Fae were tricky beings on their best of days, and Molly didn't put it past the Morning Lord to somehow wrangle a Favor out of a perfectly innocent tea date.

 

_ Not _ , Molly considers, as the Lord’s humble cottage comes into view through the lavender and mint sunbeams that peek out from between the glasslike foliage cover of the Court,  _ that he would be all that wrong.  _ When it's close enough, it tiptaps a silly rhythm on the wooden door before stepping back an amount that, while probably not  _ actually _ polite, is certainly more distance than it gives most people.

 

Even with that distance, Caduceus Clay is looking a good foot and a half over Molly's head when he opens the door. He’s smiling his wonderfully crooked smile all the while as he blinks and readjusts to look down at it.

 

“Mx. Mollymauk,” he says, low voice rumbling deliciously in the base of Molly's horns, “What a pleasure it is to see you. I'll go put the kettle on.” And then he turns and ambles back into his home, leaving the door open for Molly to follow.

 

_ Pleasure indeed _ , Molly thinks idly, eyes taking in the soft grey whorls of fur at the nape of the fae lord’s neck, visible only because his pastel hair is tied up in a lazy bun. He's wearing a jade blouse and a calf-length white muslin skirt with a grey border that - yes, when Molly looks closer, it is indeed little grey bird skulls, and he's puttering around a faded sun-yellow stove and pulling dried bits and bobs out of little floral grandma tins. The front part of this cottage is all of one room, and it takes a seat at a quaint little kitchen table set to take in the full effect of Caduceus’s domestic movements combined with his truly seductive hints of fur that peek out from under and around his casual outfit.

 

Well.  _ Seductive _ . It's possible Molly is just weak.

 

Still, it's hard not to be. Caduceus has sculpted forearms highlighted by the elbow-length sleeves of his blouse and lovely, soft hands with long, thick fingers. There are extra tufts of pink fur at his elbows and along the backs of his calves, and when his head turns in profile Molly catches a hint of scarlet brushed across his lips. His eyes droop downwards at the outside corners but lift when he grins, and he is, of course,  _ massive _ . Easily seven feet. More than enough to lift Molly off of the ground, fully circle its waist with both of his beautiful hands, and drop it, wailing, on a cock that _ must _ be big enough to split it in half. Yes, Molly would understand if the Lord thought that both the visit and the privilege of seeing him, gorgeous, giant, and alive, would be enough to warrant a Favor in full. While not its preferred method, the fantasies had most assuredly done their job for it in the past.

 

“So, why do I get to see your pretty face today, Molly?” Caduceus asks, blinking Molly out of a reverie in which it was stretched up on its tiptoes, bent in half over the table, tail coiled around its waist so the fae could stretch its ass open slowly with his huge fingers or spank it raw with his furred hands.

 

“It's all business, I'm afraid,” Molly says steadily, an admirable recovery if it’s ever had one. Caduceus is still turned to watch the kettle, which is good because Molly can't help but watch the end of his tail drift lazily back and forth before shamelessly licking its lips. “I've been spending  _ so _ much time in the Material Plane, you know, and there are some things that _ just _ don't transfer over very well.”

 

Caduceus hums after another minute, before finally moving to place a warm-but-not-steaming mug in front of it and joining it at the table. He fixes Molly’s gaze with his own before asking, “And, ah… What exactly was it that you were thinking I'd be able to help out with?”

 

Molly feels a throb deep in its gut. The force of his eyes smells of morning fog and dew, the hint of knowing fire inside them a ribbon of sharp flowers that curls over its tongue like it could tie it down. Molly wants to spread its thighs and beckon him inward. It wants to drop to its knees and offer him its throat. 

 

“My tattoos, Lord Clay,” Molly says, the title burning hot like power over its incisors. “I'm sure you've noticed that I'm quite bare in this physical form.”

 

Caduceus’s gaze sweeps down, then, and while Molly has spent this whole visit being an absolute _ paragon _ of restraint, it’s completely incapable of hiding this shudder. He drags his eyes over the curve of Molly's neck, lingers on its open collarbone, makes a show of wandering down the planes of its stomach before returning to the blank skin of its hand and forearm. Today was a good day to wear a crop top. Maybe less of a good day to wear pants this tight.

 

“Yeah, you uh… are lookin’ a little undecorated, there,” he says in his slow voice. “I think I could do something to fix that, sure.”

 

“Perfect!” Molly chirps, clapping its hands together and perching on the very edge of its seat, tail curling up and hooking just over its shoulder. It's a rather shameless presentation, and it's not sure if Caduceus is aware of that. It's not sure if it wants him to be.

 

“You'll owe me a Favor, of course,” Caduceus says, eyes only just flicking over to the tip of its tail, his own tail lifting just into view. Molly tries very hard not to squirm, channelling its excess energy into a slow reach out to wrap its palms around the mug in front of it.

 

“Of course,” Molly defers, bringing the mug to its lips and taking a long, slow sip, pulling away just too early, reveling in the flick of Caduceus’s ears as it catches a drop of tea with its split tongue. “What were you thinking of, Lord Clay?”

 

Molly could watch his pupils dilate like that a thousand times and never be hungry again. There's something  _ feral _ about the raw desire in his eyes that makes it want to tear its pants off and shove its fingers into whatever he's thought up for it right there in front of him, fuck itself until it’s so wet that he can't help but use it. 

 

“I'm sure I can think of something, Molly,” Caduceus _ purrs _ , hands tense on his own mug. Molly can practically _ feel _ those strong fingers wrapped around its thighs, imagines him hefting it up onto the table, lifting his skirt up and shoving his cock into it, fucking it so hard that the wood cracks underneath them. “In the meantime,” he continues, smile blithe and gaze almost _ unbearably _ intense, jasmine and anise and something bitter on its tongue, “let's get you situated, hmm? Shirt off.”

 

The stutter in its breath as it processes that statement is probably audible. The long pause before it can gather enough wits about it to speak  _ definitely _ is.

 

“Why, Ca _ du _ ceus  _ Clay _ ,” Molly says breathily, fluttering into a slow blink, “how very  _ scandalous _ of you.”

 

His smile stays blithe, but Molly loses track of his eyes as Caduceus stands up and walks around behind it into the center of the room.

 

“Well, I do have to be able to see the things I'm going to be altering, you know,” he says. He's low and gravelly and Molly feels the rumble in its core like a drumbeat. It lets out a pleased hum that somehow miraculously sounds only about half as horny as it feels.

 

“It's okay to have ulterior motives,  _ ਮੱਖਣਾ _ ,” it purrs, managing to peel its fingers away from the mug to play with the loose hem of its shirt.

 

“I'll leave that up to you, hmm?” Caduceus returns, and suddenly Molly feels warm, _ huge _ , furry fingers join its talons along the edge of its shirt, brushing the skin of its ribs, and it can't hide, can't hold back a long, shaky exhale. Then, and  _ fates _ , he must be bent over _ double _ , he's so  _ big _ , because it feels his broad, cold nose press into the hairline at the nape of its neck. “Come on,” he chuckles, lips and tuft of pink hair at the point of his jaw scratching along its skin, “up you get, Molly. Stand with me over there.”

 

Big, warm, furred hands clasp around its own and Molly shivers and its jaw drops. In one motion, Caduceus lifts it out of the chair and pulls both its hands and shirt over its head, revealing its whole, lithe torso to the cottage; and then, he doesn't let go. Molly is nearly suspended, clutching desperately at fabric and grey thumbs, arms outstretched above its head and hands held together. 

 

“That's very good, pretty thing,” Caduceus rumbles, a little louder, a little further away at his full height. “With me, there we go,” he says before pulling at Molly's hands, up and around the chair to the center of the room. It couldn't resist his pull if it wanted to; what the tug lacked in strength it owned entirely in leverage, and.  _ Hells _ . If he could do this to it while it was sitting in a chair, it wanted -  _ needed _ to know what he could do with it pinned down beneath it on a bed, or a table, or a counter,  _ fuck _ , over a log for all it cared.

 

Weak-kneed and aching under its tight pants, Molly stumbles along with Caduceus's guidance into the center of the room. In a slow, deliberate motion (as though anything Caduceus has done in this entire visit has been anything but deliberate), the fae lord pulls both his thumbs and Molly's shirt out of its desperate grasp and pushes its shoulders down. Obediently, Molly rests its arms by its sides, and  _ very patiently _ doesn't rush to unbutton its pants and rub desperately at itself.

 

“That's really nice, Molly,” he says, so deep it's nearly a growl, and Molly shivers head to toe. It squeezes its eyes shut and tries very hard not to give away how its legs are trembling, how it aches down to its marrow for him to hold it down and cover its face with his own and press one huge hand over the length of its neck while he occupies its throat. It almost doesn't even hear him ask, “Work with me, now, hmm?”, lost as it is in the feeling of Caduceus's hands spreading over its back.

 

Which is why Molly isn't ready to hold back a loud moan when an achingly warm feeling follows the trail of his fingers over its shoulder. It isn't _ unfamiliar _ with the feeling, per se, considering the patterns had been traced into its skin before, but nothing could be further from the adrenaline-inducing sting of a tattoo gun than…  _ whatever _ this is. The lines of the peacock suffuse into its skin again, warm like a bonfire, direct like a blowtorch. 

 

Caduceus massages one hand down its arm slowly, so slowly,  _ too _ slowly,  _ tortuous _ , and feathers upon feathers, petals and stamens, the body of the peacock curling down into the scales of the snake, all bloom in riotous color, heating it from the inside out. His other hand, which had been steady on its shoulder where he started, suddenly curved up along Molly's neck to caress his cheek, and Molly is not _ seeing _ anything so much as  _ experiencing _ but it feels like _ lightning _ , like a heart attack when Caduceus lifts its hand up over its shoulder and presses his lips to the back of it and the eye of the serpent sears into being.

 

Molly is being loud, it is sure, has made at least one round of  _ Caduceus,  _ **_Caddy_ ** _ , ffhhh,  _ **_yes_ ** , but it's hardly aware of _ anything _ much less its mouth as Caduceus's huge hands slide from its wrist and cheek all the way up to the nape of its neck, dragging a line down between its shoulder blades. It can feel the warmth of its ink dripping down from where he passed along its shoulder to form the Moon, crawling outwards from its spine to make eyes and the lines of its pyramids. In the wildest depths of its fantasy, it imagines it can feel his mouth, open in a helpless grin, pressing kisses and teeth and laughter in equal turn into the back of its head even as he continues to run his hands along the expanse of its bare back, over its shoulder and onto its collarbones.

 

Molly feels the sun's rays burn around his left shoulder and then it's-- over. As quickly as it had started the feeling is gone from its skin, and Molly finds itself panting and almost _ unbearably _ turned on, half-naked and in the hands of a creature smiling as though he hadn't just nearly made it come loudly all over his front room.

 

“That Caleb of yours sounds like a very lucky man,” Caduceus says lowly, massaging a hand into a freshly re-inked shoulder, and oh.  _ Oh,  _ **_fuck_ ** , had it said Caleb's  _ name _ ?

 

Molly looks back wide-eyed at the Lord of the Morning Court, to whom it now owes a _ Favor _ and to whom it just  _ said Caleb's name _ \-- and bolts.

 

#

 

The moment that Caleb first sees it with all of its tattoos tastes like autumn mist and golden pear. It’s grainy and ripe on its palate and Molly wants to suck down and choke on its morning cold until its eyes roll back in its head and it's writhing and hard under Caleb’s hips and hands. 

 

“Those are new,” Caleb says quietly and with an audible gulp. His gaze rakes it from stem to stern and despite its lewd, open display for him it feels raw and desperate like never before. Caleb's pretty blue eyes burn like real fire and though it runs warmer than him it feels like his touch is going to set it aflame and leave it as cinders powdered over rumpled bedsheets. 

 

“Old, actually,” Molly replies, voice steady somehow, confident in a way it's very sure it doesn't actually feel. “They're hard to manifest, so I got a little help. Thought you might appreciate them.”

 

“How very generous of you,” Caleb murmurs. Molly feels the mattress dip under it as he clambers on.

 

Caleb maps out its ink like it's a puzzle he's deciphering. He sinks his cunt down onto Molly with his teeth framing the peacock's eye and Molly  _ screams _ his name, scrabbling at his shoulders, bucking into him. Today, he's imagined Molly a cock, thick but not long, with v-shaped ridges along the bottom and a head like a lotus, and with all of the events of today it takes every ounce of Molly's self-restraint not to come immediately. Right now, even just the filthy wet noises coming from where it’s sliding in and out of Caleb's hole and the slap of skin on skin feel like enough to make it white out with the force of its orgasm, but. Caleb isn't there. Caleb has to feel like this, too. He needs-- they  _ both _ need it.

 

“You're so  _ excited _ about them, Caleb,” Molly moans, reaching down to rub at Caleb's clit. Caleb grabs it by the wrist and pins it out to the side before it can reach.

 

“They're your  _ history _ , Mollymauk,” Caleb whispers, strains of his tenor cracking through, “It's like I can pick you apart all over again.” His desire is almond brittle and rich spice and it's so  _ good _ that Molly has to open its eyes so its sense of taste doesn't override its responses entirely.

 

“Caleb-- Caleb  _ please _ ,” it whimpers, thrusting weakly, digging the petals of its head just a little deeper into him. Caleb scratches from where the tattoos end at its clavicles to the middle of its ribcage and ripples around its cock and Molly is -  _ fuck _ , but this is  _ impossible  _ -

 

“Please  _ what, _ pretty thing? Use your words,” Caleb growls, and Molly's head is suddenly full of the  _ last _ person to call it that, throat full up with the memory of jasmine and the very present bite of cinnamon. Its whole being burns with the slow roll of Caleb's hips on top of it and in this moment it can feel his  _ pulse _ along the ridges of its cock where his walls clench around it. Its mouth hangs open and feels the ghost of grey-furred fingers reaching in and tugging on its tongue, making it drool all over itself until he finally fills it with -  _ fuck _ \- with whatever he's packing, Molly doesn't know and doesn't _ care _ , it just wants to be  _ used _ , made filthy by its human and what is likely the hottest creature it's seen in any realm before.

 

“Please,  _ f-hhh-uck, _ Cale- Caleb,  _ hhn-- _ ” it manages, Caleb's unhurried slide up and down scrambling its thoughts into oblivion, the pressure he's putting on its wrists enough for it to be sure it's not allowed to come yet. And then Caleb tilts his head down and drags his tongue from the feathers on its neck along to its cheek and  _ kisses _ it, forceful and adamant. His tongue slides between Molly's lips and meets its tongue at the base of the cleft in its split and Molly whines so loudly and desperately into him that it's almost a little shocked Caleb isn't  _ concerned _ .

 

The kiss is _ stunning _ , Molly's cock inside Caleb and Caleb's tongue inside Molly and it's only just barely holding on anyway when Caleb drives down  _ just _ harder than he had been letting himself take it and lets out a nearly silent,  _ terribly _ wanton whimper that buzzes down Molly's throat, down its spine, all the way into its cock and it's -  _ hell _ , there's no coming back from this, Molly bucks and whines and Caleb has stolen all the air out of its body and it comes _ hard _ , seed leaking out from between the petals of its head, ridges swelling, shaft twitching.

 

Caleb pulls his tongue out of Molly's mouth and Molly is  _ bereft,  _ fizzing and shaking with aftershocks and the slow, steady ooze of its cum out of its dick. He's not far, he's barely moved, his lips are still so pressed into Molly's that it can feel the shape of his words before he says them, but it still cranes its neck up to him, begging for him to let it wrap the halves of its tongue around his, to let it swallow his sounds when he finally comes.

 

“Not yet, not  _ yet _ ,” Caleb whines, pounding down onto Molly hard and fast now, maple-sweet, searching hard for his climax now that it has come without him. “ _ Selfish _ thing, you couldn't wait?”

 

Molly's cock, still hard inside Caleb, twitches as he scolds it; Molly bares its neck and arches up, and moans, “I'm sorry, I'm  _ sorry,  _ I _ couldn't _ , you love them so _ much _ , I just--  _ mmh _ ,  _ Caleb _ ,  _ fuck, come on me, soak me, please--” _

 

Which is all it can get out before Caleb bites down on the vines needling along its clavicle and _ comes _ . His orgasm, if how hard he's latched onto Molly's shoulder is any indication, is just as bone-shattering as its was, and the heavy, rhythmic pulses of his cunt push out both slick and cum alike out of him to splatter on Molly's pelvis. 

 

“Shit, sweetheart,” Molly says, patting Caleb's waist and lifting him a little off of its cock as soon as he seems like he's come down enough.

 

“ _ Shit _ ,” Caleb agrees, letting out a shaky exhale as he pulls off fully, letting loose a small flood of cum that runs down Molly's hips. It's perfect. It's so close to Molly's fantasy that it nearly  _ cries _ . If Caleb could go again, it would already be hard or wet or _ anything _ under him, gagging for it so obviously that it might actually have been enough to embarrass it. Unfortunately, it'll just have to settle for regular horny for now.

 

Molly halfheartedly gropes around Caleb's other side to reach the towel it hid on his side of the bed. Honestly it doesn't care enough to actually do anything about the mess and right now Caleb is  _ way _ too tired to do anything productive about it, so instead it just drapes the towel over its pelvic region and tugs his human a little closer, just enough so that it can mess with his hair while he falls asleep. 

 

It's fully aware that dealings with the Fae tend to be dangerous at  _ best _ , but to see Caleb react the way he did -- whatever it now owes, Molly is quite certain that it was worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> i j u s t joined the widomauk server and Let Me Tell You, what a good and supportive groupa people that is. just swell. I'm so excited to finally get this out!!!!


End file.
